


Rain

by Prism_Streak



Category: Cats - Andrew Lloyd Webber, Old Possum's Book of Practical Cats - T. S. Eliot
Genre: I know it explicitly says they're best friends but I promise they are together, It happened between the first and second scenes trust me, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-31
Updated: 2020-03-31
Packaged: 2021-03-01 01:48:13
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,181
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23407039
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Prism_Streak/pseuds/Prism_Streak
Summary: The silence is Mistoffelees's life always seemed to come in with the rain
Relationships: Mr. Mistoffelees/Rum Tum Tugger
Comments: 12
Kudos: 47





	Rain

The metal of the old rusted car was still warm, even though the sun had retreated behind grey, heavy clouds. It was a still day, and the decaying junkyard was quiet in the face of the oncoming thunderstorm. Nothing rustled, no mice squeaked and no cats chased them. The only movement was the flick-flick-flick back and forth of a single black tail, on the roof of the old car. 

Mistoffelees didn't mind the chill, or the impending storm. The car was warm, and he could see the whole junkyard from where he lay. He could see each entrance to each den, and should someone venture outside, he knew exactly who would emerge from each crack and crevice. Every cat who lived in the yard knew this, but there was almost never a chance to observe these entrances without cats hurrying in and out of them. Sunny, warm days were always busy- kittens running around making trouble, their parents scolding them, plays and dances being rehearsed, all against the backdrop of a thousand different conversations. It was lively, and certainly not lonely. But it was never quiet. In the silence, Mistoffelees could feel the energy that flowed through the piles of junk, through the dens, through the families who, for once, he could not see. The gentle hum of the subtle magic of dozens of cats reverberated in his fur, and warmed him. Even without the sun, he was content to lie out on the roof of the old car and feel the warmth of his family simply existing below him. 

He was so caught up in the magic he felt that he almost didn't feel a weight land on the roof of the car with him and settle next to him. He opened his eyes and looked up at the cat next to him, and was unsurprised to be greeted by a mass of light brown fur obscuring most of his face. He manoeuvred around it, and sure enough it revealed the face of his best friend. 

The Rum Tum Tugger, he knew, was rarely quiet and even more rarely calm. The stillness of the other cats and the incoming storm had mellowed him, and he sat, for once, as still as Mistoffelees did, looking out over the yard. Even when Mistoffelees didn't want to talk they weren't the kind of friends to simply ignore each other, so he reached up to bump his head against Tugger's shoulder. He got a nosefull of long fur for his troubles, but Tugger nuzzled him back. For once the larger cat's presence didn't disturb Mistoffelees's peace, but contributed to it. 

Before he knew it the first raindrops were falling, and the chill of the storm was finally creeping its way into his fur. Tugger must have been able to tell, since he pulled Mistoffelees closer to him, sharing the warmth that radiated from below his thick coat. The raindrops became smaller and quicker, and before Mistoffelees knew it Tugger was tugging him to his feet and dragging him off the old car's roof, down onto the ground and then between pieces of increasingly deteriorated furniture until they found themselves in the hollow of the old writing desk that was their home. They were both thoroughly soaked, but as they shook themselves off, Mistoffelees didn't miss the pure, joyful smile on Tugger's face. 

They watched the rain until it disappeared, the rest of the afternoon and all through the evening. Mistoffelees, unlike Tugger, was not predisposed to like water. But he didn't mind the rain.

* * *

Three days ago, some humans had come by, and left a large box behind. Within was a gramophone, and seemingly countless records to play. None of the cats had known exactly how it worked, but Jenny and Mistoffelees had seen contraptions like it in their human homes. The whole yard had worked together to haul the box out of the way and into the old car, where Mistoffelees had begun working on restoring the machine using magic. It had taken three days, but it finally ran. It was well worth the effort to drag the large black disks on and off the turntable to have music playing almost all day. 

It was April, and the junkyard was beginning to bloom with color. Sprouts of green poked through the ground, through the junk piles, and through the cracks in the brick walls that kept the garbage from spilling into neighboring lots. The surrounding trees were reviving, sprouting bright leaves against the blue of the sky that hadn't shown its face all winter. Every color of cat adorned the junkyard, even those with human families who rarely let them out were there almost constantly. Their good fortune seemed to have carried over from the weather into the junk that was dropped off, first a rocking chair, cushions and all, and now they had music.

The afternoon's record was something upbeat, something that demanded dancing. Cats, of course, have no knowledge of human music genres, but even they could tell when music was made to be danced to. The kittens had formed one moving, pulsing mass as they jumped and shouted together to an approximation of the rhythm, while older, more experienced cats danced around them in pairs or smaller groups. 

Mistoffelees wasn't dancing, as he was charged with keeping an eye on the record. He was keeping one eye on the other cats, and one on the sky. It was warm for April, and the warmest it had been since the last autumn. But it was overcast, the kind of spring day that brought a heavy warmth, that promised future life. Mistoffelees did not mind, he hadn't liked the cold and the snow. The prospect of warm rain was not unpleasant to him, in fact it was almost welcome. 

He sat on the roof of the car, feeling the vibrations of the music below him. Moments like this stood out to him- between Victoria dragging him into mischief with the other kittens and Tugger demanding every spare moment of his attention, he almost never got a quiet moment to himself.

"Hello, Tuxie."

Or, perhaps he never did. 

He turned to look up at Tugger, a purposeful glare of his face. It wasn't that he disliked his human given name, but Tugger  _ knew _ that he felt it had no place in the junkyard. It was strange enough coming from Tugger's mouth- their human owner had meant it to sound endearing, cute. The way Tugger said it was so… sensual. And Mistoffelees was determined to keep both of those little facts from every cat he possibly could. 

Tugger slid down to sit beside him, draping a long arm over his shoulders. Mistoffelees was sorely tempted to squirm away, to drive home that he was really supposed to be mad at Tugger right now. But he didn't really have it in him, it was such a nice day and Tugger was so warm. He nuzzled him instead, even allowing himself to purr. He couldn't even stay mad at Tugger for the sake of making a point. 

"Not gonna dance?" 

Of course Tugger would want to know. They didn't see eye to eye on the subject of being alone.

"No, I have to keep an eye on the record. Besides, I don't really feel like dancing with the kittens."

Tugger nodded as if this were a piece of invaluable life advice, and not Mistoffelees's opinion on his sister's squealing friends. The song that was playing transitioned into another, also meant for dancing. 

"You know, we could just dance up here. Keep an eye on the record." 

Mistoffelees had not thought of that. It wasn't that he didn't want to dance, he just didn't have the energy to do so with the same enthusiasm the cats below them were showing. Even so, he allowed Tugger to lift him to his feet, take his paws, and guide him into a simple, relaxed rhythm. Together they stepped around the roof of the old car, missing almost as many steps as they landed correctly, despite the simplicity of their dance. Mistoffelees laughed as he was twirled, before he was pulled in to Tugger's chest as they faced each other again. The song changed again, and Tugger directed him into a waltz with surprisingly little fumbling.

Waltzing was easy, and as they danced their attention drifted from keeping in time to the world around them. They talked about the spring, their human's annual large, colorful celebration (and where they each intended to hide for it), and the reappearance of Macavity's rats, and the subsequent increase in rat being served in the junkyard. True to Mistoffelees's earlier observations it began to drizzle after only a minute or two of the waltz, and the cats below began to wave happy goodbyes to each other and disperse. 

Neither Mistoffelees nor Tugger took any notice of this, too caught up in their dance and conversation. Underneath all the showmanship of strutting and hip-swinging, Tugger really was a wonderful dancer, and Mistoffelees relished in it. As the music swelled Tugger guided them in wider and wider circles, adding almost more flourishes and twirls than Mistoffelees could keep up with. As the music built to a crescendo Tugger's hands moved to his waist, and  _ this _ he was familiar with,  _ this _ he could do, and he waited til he could feel the tension in Tugger's paws and arms, until the music was just right, and he jumped- 

And Tugger lost his footing to the wet metal, and his legs flew out from under him. He went down, and Mistoffelees went down on top of him. It was precisely the opposite of the lift they had tried to execute, and both sat in stunned silence for a moment. The music had ended, leaving each to hear the other struggling to catch his breath. Mistoffelees felt a bit bad about having knocked the wind out of Tugger by landing on him, but at the same time it was better than cracked ribs. Tugger was a lot sturdier than he was. 

They slowly gathered themselves, sitting up and checking themselves over for any forming bruises. Now that the exhilaration of dancing was gone, Mistoffelees could feel just how wet his fur was, and how cold the rain was, despite the day's earlier warmth. 

A paw extended into his vision, and he took it, letting Tugger haul him to his feet for the second time that day. Despite having just fallen hard on cold, wet metal, Tugger was smiling like a kitten that had just caught his first bug. He wrapped his arms around Mistoffelees, and together they climbed gently down from the car and made their way towards their den.

* * *

It was raining. 

Mistoffelees stood on the roof of the old car, facing Tugger's back. Or, perhaps Tugger had his back to Mistoffelees. In that moment, he felt the distinction keenly.

This was where Mistoffelees was supposed to be. He had been waiting there for Tugger. This was where they met, where they had said they would meet. He was there, and Tugger was there. He was sure, somehow, that he had been waiting there forever, even though he was equally sure they had parted only earlier the same day. 

It was cold, and the rain drummed against the car, and washed over Tugger in waves. Mistoffelees's own fur was dry, but he couldn't quite see Tugger through the rain. It wasn't particularly heavy rain, but the sky was grey and the junkyard was still. 

Tugger would not look at him. He stood, hunched over and silent, facing out into the impossibly silent yard. He did not speak or move, only watched. What was he watching for? Mistoffelees had said they would meet, and he was there. But Tugger would not look at him. 

He moved forward, an arm outstretched, but was suddenly unsure. Tugger was waiting for something. For someone. But Mistoffelees was right there. 

He laid his paw on Tugger's tense shoulder. He brought the other up to join it, and ran the first paw over Tugger's shoulders and the back of his neck, in an attempt to hold Tugger like Tugger held him. He buried his face in his shoulder, but Tugger gave no indication that he was there. Around them, the soft patter of rain became deafening. 

It seemed like hours before Tugger moved, not even bothering to shrug Mistoffelees away. Whatever he was waiting for wasn't going to come. Slowly, so slowly, he stepped out of Mistoffelees's embrace and walked to the edge of the car, toward their den. Without a sound, he slipped from the car to the ground, not looking back. 

Mistoffelees wanted to follow him, but found he could not move. His feet rooted to the cold metal, his cries for Tugger fell on unhearing ears. Above him, he realized, the moon was rising behind the rain clouds. Tugger was looking at it too, past him and into the heavens. Then he turned, and Mistoffelees watched as he walked away into the rain. 


End file.
